


The Gildon Raid

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, first wizarding war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-03
Updated: 2010-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:59:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raiding the Gildons was supposed to be a time-wasting technique that would leave the Aurors clogged up in internal affairs. But Antonin Dolohov has his own goals on this raid. Goals concerning the training of Regulus Black and other young Death Eaters soon to take the Vow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gildon Raid

 “It won’t work.”  
  
“It will.”  
  
“No it won’t. Lestrange, you’re a politician not a war strategist!”  
  
The ensuing glaring match was something that had always persisted in the Lestrange-Dolohov relationship even during their time at Hogwarts. They were both stubborn, and had roots of antithesis that ran too deep to uproot. Not that they couldn’t be civil with each other, and they had too many friends in common to be openly hostile. Outsiders might even imagine them as friends or something of the sort. “More like people who have too much mutual history and present entangling circumstance,” was how Antonin chose to describe is. There was no hatred between them, however, only frustrating annoyance.  
  
“Would the two of you stop arguing for a minute and actually try finding a real solution to this?” Augustus Rookwood asked for the fifth time that evening.  
  
“There’s no use in raiding the Gildons. They’re half-bloods, for Merlin’s sake. There is absolutely no use in it!” Antonin sat back down into an armchair and looked around the room, searching for a challenger.  
  
“The Gildon’s oldest son is an Auror,” said Rodolphus as though that explained everything.  
  
“Oh yes, anger the Aurors, that’s a fine way to go,” muttered Andre Rosier.  
  
“You don’t understand,” sighed Rodolphus, sitting down as well. “Romeo Gildon is a fool. If we raid his family, he will find a way to do something brash about it. Augustus, didn’t Dickens tell you that Gildon had a whole group of people behind him? They’re getting tired of Moody from what I gather.”  
  
Augustus smirked. “Everyone’s getting tired of Moody. I’m not surprised. The man is intolerable. But that isn’t the point. Moody isn’t going anywhere. It’s Harding who’s the problem. He’s in charge of Gildon’s squadron and of the whole second precinct. The whole precinct is split in two right now. Gildon’s lot can’t wait to see Harding removed.”  
  
“What does the Aurors’ internal power struggle have to do with us?”  
  
“A lot.” Rodolphus looked agitated. “Gildon has harnessed enough support to where they can lobby Moody for a replacement. But the only fit candidate is Sparrow!”  
  
“That filthy mudblood?” Andre looked scandalized, “The Aurors have lost all shame!”   
  
“That’s only half of it,” Rookwood picked up dully. “Sparrow is almost as much of a fanatic as Moody. Haven’t you noticed how little trouble we get from the second precinct? That’s not because Harding is incompetent; it’s because he’s Pureblood.”  
  
“Some Pureblood,” Dolohov muttered with a look of distaste.  
  
“Either way,” Augustus continued, ignoring him, “Harding tries to turn a blind eye to the small things. A Hogwarts graduate caught doing something related to Dark Magic, for instance. Moody would have the kid questioned to death. Harding issues a fine and lets the kid go with a talking-to and a note in the records.”  
  
“But if we could get Gildon to do something stupid, we could discredit him. There’s no way the department would authorize a counter-raid, especially not under Harding, so Gildon would have to take his followers.”  
  
“It all seems very iffy,” Antonin said, frowning. “The Gildons do have a fair amount of wards, and otherwise it does seem useless. We can’t solve every ministry power struggle; our own problems are enough. Nor does this solve our initial problem.”  
  
Silence fell, heavy and somewhat miserable. Rookwood, Rosier, Dolohov, and Lestrange had been at this for hours and still there was no resolution. Mainly, they needed to buy time. Enough time for Karkaroff and Voskresenski to finish whatever new offensive potion they were working on. Igor promised it would give them an advantage, especially in a half-half raid where reinforcements rejoined the initial ground attack group on brooms. The idea was to keep the ministry as clogged with useless affairs as possible and avoid any serious confrontations until the Lab was finished with the new weapon.  
  
Finally, Adam Nott, who hadn’t said a single word throughout the whole evening stood and regarded the group seriously, “Gentlemen, I do see sense in Rodolphus’ proposal. The Gildon raid shouldn’t cause us too much trouble, and there is no need to send our best men. It will keep the Aurors busy at least to some degree, especially if there’s an internal affair that needs to be settled. Their intelligence agents will be looking at how to prevent another raid, trying to calculate our next move, rather than trying to figure out what has had us so inactive for almost a month. Also, Antonin, didn’t you want a chance to try out a couple of the youngsters?”  
  
“Crouch and Black you mean? It wouldn’t be a bad idea. They’re nearly of age now. It’s about time they start seeing more battle.”  
  
Rodolphus wore an inappropriately smug look.  
  
“Can we discuss this further tomorrow then?” Andre asked. He looked a little too eager to be going.  
  
Antonin smirked. “Is Alexandra Flyte waiting for you?”  
  
Rosier drew himself up but found absolutely nothing to say in his own defense.  
  
“Oh let him be, Tony,” Augustus laughed. “Let’s just say that the Gildon raid is under consideration. Bring it up in your report to our Lord tomorrow.”  
  
Antonin stood. “Meeting dismissed, then.”  
  
Rodolphus, Andre, and Adam left immediately but Dolohov held Rookwood back. “I’ll be damned if Lestrange starts managing things around here,” he muttered when they were finally alone.  
  
Rookwood shook his head. “Really, Tony, Rodolphus isn’t an idiot. He doesn’t get to do much now that we aren’t ‘legal’ anymore. Not as much, at least, as when this whole thing began. He wants to fight, just like we all do. Don’t let your bias stand in the way. Bella—“  
  
“Leave her out of this,” Antonin growled. “Really Augus, you have very little tact for a Pureblood.”  
  
Rookwood shrugged. “I’m half Romanian. I think that’s part of the problem.” They exchanged smiles at the old joke.  
  
“Instead of pursuing this rather glum matter, tell me, how are your prospects with Bagman?”  
  
Rookwood looked thoughtful. “Poor Luke. He does have an idiot for a son.”  
  
“I presume this is a good thing?”  
  
“In a way. It makes the boy easy to manipulate. He seems to think me and his father good friends.”  
  
“Aren’t you?”  
  
“I interned for the man for goodness sake, Dolohov. He’s some twelve years older than I.”  
  
Antonin smirked. “Sensible. Well, what’s the down side?”  
  
“Well, the kid couldn’t possibly do anything productive on his own that could require any amount of imagination or delicacy.”  
  
“You have other people for that, Augus. Bagman’s good for getting us started. Gossip, that’s all we need from him really. And anything he can get easily but not from people we could reach.”  
  
“I know what he’s good for,” Rookwood replied irritably. “I just do wish he was good for more. Either way, I will promise him a job recommendation down the line. I rather think that will make both him and his father quite happy and satisfied with me.”  
  
Dolohov nodded. “Seems like a smart move to me. Will you come out for drinks?”  
  
Rookwood nodded eagerly. “I was hoping you’d ask.”  
  
*~*  
  
The Lord took rather lukewarmly to the proposed Gildon raid. Not that he was against the idea but there were matters that preoccupied the Dark Lord more. Such as the Longbottoms. They were causing trouble. Again. Of course, that was nothing new even if it was distracting. Eventually it was decided that they would go through with the raid, as well as leaking a few strategically timed false alarms. The goal was to keep the Aurors preoccupied but not in any very useful ways. Antonin decided that overall it would be a good chance for him to get the Young Guard out an extra time. Evan, Jack, and Severus were graduating this year. Regulus, Barty and Anatole were to be of age. It was about time for the lot of them to be Marked. Bella wanted her cousin to be Marked as soon as possible. It took Tony a lot of time and effort to explain to her that this would not happen over the winter holidays. Regulus’ dedication could not be made official until his seventeenth birthday that spring.  
  
Meaning to speak with Bella, as well as inform Regulus of the upcoming raid, Antonin had made an arrangement to be for tea at the Blacks on Friday afternoon. To Antonin’s relief Cygnus and Druella retired quickly with Druella announcing pleasantly, “Our daughter is here this afternoon, Mr. Dolohov. I’m sure she will be most willing to entertain.”  
  
Antonin didn’t have to wait long. Bellatrix came into the drawing room only a few minutes later. With amazement, Antonin noticed that she seemed to float rather than walk as she moved toward the tea table. He had forgotten how it used to be. Bella always looked so different here in her father’s house, in society in general, than she did back at Headquarters. He’d nearly forgotten that she had been brought up as a lady and that Narcissa wasn’t the only Black girl who was absolutely stunning. Bella’s hair was up in elaborate large curls, arranged decoratively on top of her head and falling down in full locks over her shoulders and back. She wore a luxurious black dress embroidered with green velvet the skirts of which rustled like a spring breeze when she walked. Her typical battle poise was present but there was no sharp edge to it, rather the softness of her movements indicated grace more than anything else. The light caught on the emerald earrings and necklace that she was wearing, throwing green-tinted sun bunnies onto the walls.   
  
Antonin stood. “Ms. Bellatrix, you look beautiful.” He absolutely refused to call her ‘Mrs. Lestrange.’ His whole being revolted against recognizing her marriage so casually.  
  
“Antonin,” she acknowledged with a smile, sitting down across from him. He sat down as well, looking at her in some form of sheer amazement.  
  
“It’s been long since I’ve seen you like this.”  
  
She sniffed. “Like what? A frilly doll?”  
  
Antonin laughed. “You can transform yourself so easily. From high society lady to Death Eater worrier. It’s quite incredible actually.”  
  
“It is useful.”  
  
“You haven’t changed.”  
  
“Nor have you.”  
  
He smiled gently at her, feeling the love-struck teenager fight his way to the surface. He hadn’t felt this warm inside for quite a while. “Your parents are as charming as always.”  
  
“As boring as always, you mean.” She smiled knowingly. “Antonin, I’m sure you’re not here to socialize with my parents or to court me. So, what has happened?”  
  
“Nothing.” His smile faded as he returned to reality. The truth was that they were no longer teenagers and it was time to pay attention to more pressing matters than foolish fantasies. “Nothing has happened. I wanted to tell you though, that we have finally figured out a time-wasting strategy.”  
  
Bella’s eyes lit up and she leaned forward just slightly. “Oh?” War talk seemed to excite her more than anything these days. Though, Antonin wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. Bella had always been something of a tomboy deep down.  
  
“There will be a raid on the Gildons. Nothing major, flash attack, the only goal is to make a mess. Rodolphus and Augustus are convinced this will clog up the Aurors for a while with internal struggle issues once the Gildon boy does something foolish in retaliation, which they are likewise convinced he will.”  
  
Bella was nodding but she seemed less excited now that she realized where this was going. Particularly, that it wasn’t going much of anywhere.  
  
“This will also preoccupy the Aurors with the idea that we are starting a new series of raids. Rookwood and Malfoy have promised to leak certain false information to the right people to inspire these rumors. False alarms, a couple of small skirmishes, all useless things really but they will buy us time.”  
  
Bellatrix looked unimpressed. “So who was the mastermind behind all this? Was my dear husband involved in the concoction of this _brilliant_ idea?”  
  
“He was, in fact, the one who insisted on the Gildon raid. Nott, Andre, Augustus and I added some more strategic things to it.”  
  
Bellatrix was shaking her head. “Really, Antonin. You will drive me crazy. Over the last couple of weeks I have been reduced to entertaining my parents’ tea and dinner guests. But you won’t even allow me to deal with the Longbottoms despite our Lord’s concern over them.”  
  
“It’s an unnecessary risk for now. Bella, I promise you, as soon as Igor and Ivan are done with their potion-making we will take on something more productive. I don’t exactly enjoy sitting around as well. Now, I need to speak to your cousin. I was under the impression he would be visiting.”  
  
“I’ve just come from them, actually.”  
  
Antonin’s eyebrows shot up in question. “Them?”  
  
“Rabastan and Crouch are here too.”  
  
“Ah, even better.” Rabastan was to be Marked over the winter holidays. He had graduate the past year and had expected to officially join the ranks last summer but the months had been tumultuous ones and there was simply no time for ceremony. Rabastan had taken it all in stride but Rodolphus had somehow felt personally slighted. Antonin had long ago noted that though he was quite a few years younger, Rabastan was at times much more mature than his older brother.  
  
“Why do you need to speak with Regulus?” Bellatrix asked plaintively, only mildly curious.  
  
“For one he’s to go on this raid. Secondly, I would like to make the Young Guard a more prominent force in this raid. It’s simple enough for them to manage mostly on their own with some guidance. The whole lot of them needs to start seeing more battle if they are to be Marked in the coming months.”  
  
Bella’s expression brightened. “It’s about time. I have been anxious about Regulus. He’s such an incorrigibly soft boy.”  
  
“He is quite noble though. Acts and looks it too.” Antonin sounded appreciative. He did in fact value Regulus’ Pureblood appearance and mannerisms. It made up for his inherent soft-heartedness. “The same could hardy be said about someone like Jack Avery, though his blood is just as pure.”  
  
Bella smirked knowingly. “The Averys have always been somewhat on the shabby side of appearances.”  
  
“I also have some goals for Regulus on this raid. You do know he has trouble with the Cruciatus?”  
  
“Of course I know! I’ve tried to instruct him and quite lost my nerve with the boy.”  
  
“It’s been better,” Antonin said quickly. He didn’t want to work Bella up into a temper. She made such a perfect picture; he wanted to preserve it for at least a few more minutes. The other Bella – the Death Eater – he would have plenty of chances to observe. “Theoretically, he can perform the curse. But on living targets…” Antonin shook his head. “Theodore says it has to do with pain tolerance. Regulus’ is quite small, and he can’t bear to inflict pain that he can’t possibly bear himself.”  
  
Bellatrix’s eyes were narrowed. “Do you make excuses for all your students? It’s about sensitivity, that’s what it’s about.”  
  
Antonin nodded conciliatorily. “That too,” he agreed plaintively.  
  
“So what are your goals?”  
  
“I want him to get accustomed to the idea of having to cause pain. I won’t tell you all the gruesome details – you look too much a lady dressed like that.” Bella’s glare was murderous. Antonin wasn’t fazed. He continued, “But I will tell you that if all goes well, Regulus will have used several quite unpleasant curses by the end of the night.” He would have to risk Rabastan’s safety for that, but in the end, if Regulus did not fail, the gamble would be worth it.  
  
*~*  
  
Antonin found Regulus, Rabastan, and Barty in the upstairs game room. The two younger boys were at chess with Rabastan watching as he sat beside Regulus. The two had been friends since childhood as the Blacks and Lestranges had always been closely connected and allied. Rabastan was the first to notice his presence and stood quickly. The other two boys followed his lead within seconds. “Hello, sir,” Regulus said, stepping forward and bowing slightly.  
  
“Gentlemen, I hope to not disturb your afternoon much.” He scanned the threesome with an interested look and then addressed Regulus. “I thought Anatole Bonfante might be here?”  
  
Regulus drew himself up almost defensively. “Anatole’s back in Paris, sir.”  
  
Antonin nodded. “Yes, I do remember him mentioning that… I have an announcement for all of you but first: Barty, I would like a word.”  
  
“Of course, sir.” Barty stood and looked over at Rabastan, his eyes calculating. “Take over for me for a few minutes, won’t you? Try to not lose on purpose.”  
  
“You think unjustly poorly of me, Crouch,” Rabastan mused as he slid into Barty’s vacated seat.  
  
Barty followed Antonin into an adjoining room, closing the door behind them. He turned questioning eyes up to Antonin. “You wanted to speak with me, sir?”  
  
“Yes, quite. There is a raid planned for the coming Thursday. You, Regulus, Rabastan, Anatole, Snape, Avery, and Evan will all be an integral part of this raid.”  
  
The change in Barty’s face was phenomenal. He went from looking bored and slightly, overtly, impetuous to excited and giddy as though Antonin had told him he was to receive a large gift within the coming week.  
  
“Finally! I’m horribly tired of sitting around,” Barty proclaimed, enthusiasm emanating from him in waves.  
  
Antonin nodded, appreciative of the boy’s willingness. Crouch was a strange one. He had started Hogwarts as a rather reclusive, nose-in-book type who looked like he belonged more in Ravenclaw than Slytherin. His father was a Ministry official who was rising rapidly through the ranks, hated the Dark Arts, and had been one of the most enthusiastic lobbyists for outlawing Tom Riddle’s Organization. Barty had been somewhat scrawny as a child with dirty-blonde hair falling over his eyes and awkward limbs that seemed to stick out at various angels. He was asocial during much of his first two years and Regulus had almost despaired of making friends with him. But as he grew older and was not as easily terrorized by his father, Barty had begun to come out of his shell, make new social connections, put theory into practice, and find a way for his own self expression. All his Housemates prided themselves in their Pureblood heritage and it was impossible, being a pureblood himself, for Barty to resist that call of ancestry. He found his family chronicles and plunged into them with much excitement. The boy seemed to worship Old Magic since he was first introduced to it and stories from Evan, Jack, and Severus about the Lord’s Training Academy had a fourteen-year-old Barty showing up at Antonin’s doorstep on the night of his birthday, asking to be trained in “real magic.”   
  
“I wanted to speak with you privately because I have a special assignment for you on this particular raid. A secret one.”  
  
If it were possible, Crouch’s eyes brightened even more. A secret assignment all of his own! Whatever reservation the boy may have harbored for his commanding officer in the past, were now swept away with anticipation. “Sir?”  
  
“There will come a time at the end of the raid when you, Regulus, and Rabastan will be in a fix with one of the Gildons. I will come to your aid and when I give you the signal you are to…”  
  
*~*  
  
2300 hours. Beta security Base 18. Launch bay 3. Gildon Operation in Ready Commence mode.  
  
Antonin and Rodolphus, the only senior Elite Squad members to be conducting the raid, stood facing the Young Guard, with the addition of Simon Pavlov. The boys stood in the formation they had been instructed of.  
  
Angelus Wilkes and Ashley Mulciber were paired and stood in the middle, shoulder to shoulder. They were two of the oldest and were to operate as a sole pair. Their main job was to do a preliminary stealth scan of the area and then trip the wards alarms at the most advantageous location. The rest of the raid they would act as look outs in case the raid was to be picked up on. This was also their first on-mission chance to build anti-apparation wards. Antonin wasn’t counting on strong wards, however. The boys’ experience and training in the area was rather limited and the wards wouldn’t hold against experienced Aurors.  
  
Rodolphus was to take in Evan Rosier and Jack Avery – who were paired together almost always as they seemed to have a fairly good natural understanding of each other on the battle field – and Severus and Simon. Severus was classically a hard one to pair. He preferred, and excelled at, solo work. The only partner he seemed to do well with was Evan so there was a constant tussle over who gets the young Rosier, Snape or Avery. Simon had just graduated from Durmstrang that past summer though he had joined the Lord’s ranks roughly a year before that. He had not gone through the Academy, was a foreigner, and, above all, was an illegitimate, orphaned, half-blood. This kept Simon from being a true member of the Young Guard which was considered the junior division of the Elite Squadron but he was smart and talented in the Dark Arts, so the commanding officers often included him on high-profile raids anyways. Antonin could tell that these circumstances bothered Simon; he felt it was unfair. After all, Regulus had only been in the Academy for one year, Anatole was French not British, Severus was a half-blood, and yet _they_ were permitted to be among the Lord’s most honored… Despite this, Pavlov was a quiet, keep-it-to-himself fellow and didn’t bring the matter up even in subtext, though he didn’t get along very well with any of his peers. The paring with Severus was made out of the regard for the two boys’ similar fighting styles and their keen sense of professionalism. These two pairs, now stationed on the right, were to conduct the general sweep and raid with Rodolphus. All were to be killed in a very showcased manner, aside from Romeo Gildon himself, who was to be incapacitated and left alone.  
  
Antonin was to take the two pairs grouped on the left. Regulus and Rabastan were a good match as they had the same sort of understanding as Evan and Avery shared. Barty and Anatole were a much more awkward pair. Both were very young and without any sort of bond that would enhance their performance. But Antonin had his own reasons for keeping this group under his personal supervision and no one dared oppose him in his strategy making, especially since every other paring made plenty of sense. Antonin was to lead these two pairs downward toward the cellars and block off escape routs. Augustus’ agents had been able to retrieve information about a few of them during the past week.  
  
Dolohov waiting for several moments before addressing the boys. Their hoods were up so he couldn’t see their faces but by their postures he could tell their eagerness and the wind that blew through their cloaks making them puff out and ripple like dark waters gave the whole scene a powerful energy that hummed in the air over the launch bay. “Gentlemen! Tonight, our objective is simple. You have already been briefed and know what each group is to do. You have been taught the curses – use them! This will show the mudbloods and blood-traitors once more that we are a force that _will_ dominate and our heirs – that is you – _will dominate_!” There was a triple _hurrah_! from the boys and everything turned to business.  
  
Broomsticks were summoned and mounted. Dolohov gave the signal and they lifted up into the dark sky, Wilkes and Mulciber flying side-by-side in the center while Dolohov and Lestrange headed their respective groups, flying in standard V formation, They took to the skies, sweeping like ghoulish shadows over fields and lakes, rivers and forest, coming silently up on a roomy country house with a small landholding surrounding it, embedded deep in the countryside.  
  
“Wilkes, Mulciber, go.”  
  
Two shadows detached themselves from the group, silently skimming the treetops that surrounded the landholding. They disappeared out of sight at the other side of the house. A minute later Mulciber’s voice came over the enchanted mirror Dolohov held in one hand. _“The perimeter is small, their wards are all constructed” – no Blood Magic – “no lights, aside from one in the study; we assume everyone’s asleep.”_  
  
“Alright, don’t breach their defenses until Lestrange gets there.” Dolohov turned to Rodolphus. “Split up. Let’s not give them time to group.”  
  
Lestrange nodded and signaled for his group to follow him. They streaked off into the dark.  
  
“Spread out some.” The two pairs put several meters between themselves and their leader on each side. They froze in midair, hovering like vultures, wands clasped tightly under black cloaks. In the distance, they could just see the other group spread out in an inclosing circle.  
  
Regulus edged just a little too closely to Rabastan, feeling the minutes itch and grate at his nerves. “What are you doing? At least three feet, remember?” Rabastan hissed. Regulus glanced at him and moved a little more to the side, returning his gaze forward as his grip on the broom became somewhat loose as sweat collected on his palms. On the other side, Anatole and Barty hovered in similar anticipation, though Anatole was plagued by a mingling of excitement and terror while Barty was suffering from impatience. His eyes devoured the house, peered into the dark windows in search for victims. He was dismayed to find himself not in the main invading force. He loved these missions. Loved the thought that while his father was staying up late in the ministry, building his career, _he_ was here. Doing just what his father was fighting against. It was a sweet revenge. Revenge for all those fatherless nights, missed birthdays, forgotten family occasions, broken promises—  
  
A shrill, high pitched alarm, felt more than heard, pierced the night. The wards were breached. Ahead of them, Lestrange’s group dived simultaneously downward toward shattering windows. “To me!” Dolohov’s command carried through the strained atmosphere without a _sonorus_. Barty kicked his broom into attack speed, streaking down through the treetops, down, down, through the broken wards bubble, along the garden groves, against the walls of the house, around the corners… Something sneaking along the wall. _Avada Kedavra_. Oh, just a cat. They landed at the back of the house, touching down softly like jaguars jumping from tree branches to the ground. “Split up, impediment chars on all exists, meet back in ten minutes.” The command was given and they scattered. Barty wished avidly that he would run into someone on his way. The _Avada_ felt natural now, he wanted a real chance to showcase it.   
  
*  
  
The breaching of the wards did not mean their complete collapse and it took several more moments for Lestrange’s group to be able to pass through them. _“Romeo’s retreated form the study,”_ came Mulciber’s report.  
  
“Let him go, take posts,” Lestrange commanded. With a single flick of his wand he shattered the window of the Gildons’ bedroom and swooped in. He was met by a dazed Roberto Gildon, tousled hair falling over his eyes and a wand clutched clumsily in his hand. The woman was still reaching for hers.  
  
Rodolphus threw up a protective charm before aiming his wand at the mudblood woman. A flick of his wand. _Invectivo._  
  
A spray of crimson and clear yellowish liquid squirted over the ceiling and walls, soaking the linen sheets as the woman’s body was turned inside-out. Gildon screamed and jumped away from the mound of flesh and bone socked with blood and stomach juices that had been his wife just moments before. “What do you want!” the man cried, waving his wand haphazardly.  
  
Rodolphus laughed, cutting the air with his wand. Gildon blocked clumsily, sending the spell to the side where it tore through the wallpaper, leaving a deep scorching mark. The hall on the other side of the door was now also filling with cries and sounds of battle. Rodolphus sent a vicious curse sequence at the man. Gildon tripped over backwards, sliding through a puddle of blood. He slipped under the curses sent his way and tried to get to the door. _Incendio!_ Gildon’s hair caught on fire and hurried to put it out, barely ducking Lestrange’s next spell.  
  
*  
  
Romeo Gildon burst into his sisters’ room just as the window shattered. “Get up! We’re under attack!” He held up his wand just as Rosier and Avery came flying through the open window. Romeo sent a blind curse at Evan. Evan rolled the broom and the curse hit the wood instead of him. His broom snapped and he tumbled to the ground.  
  
Avery stood cover, deflecting spells from two sides now that the oldest sister had gotten to her wand. Evan shot a curse at Romeo’s feet which the Auror jumped but barely avoided.  
  
“Go wake Eric and our parents!” Two girls slipped through the side door as their older brother continued to battle the two young Death Eaters. Avery’s _Incedisequor_ sent a fire chain spreading over the beds and other furniture. One of Evan’s spells exploded a bottle of ink and the substance spilled over the floor like black blood.  
  
Romeo backed out into the hallway to avoid the fire. There was no sight of his parents. His younger sister went scuttling past him, down the stairs, tugging behind her their nine-year-old brother. Down the hall Eric and Aurora were fighting two more Death Eaters.  
  
Snape’s _Sectumsempra_ finally found a glitch in Eric’s defenses. The boy’s chest erupted in a fountain of blood, showering his sister with the warm liquid. She screamed, letting down her own guard. Pavlov took his chance, jabbing his wand at her. The curse hit her in the face, popping out her eyeballs which rolled down her body and across the floor like two slimy balls. Meanwhile, Severus had managed to split open the head of the young man he was dueling.  
  
“Finish and leave them!” Evan yelled, trying hard to concentrate on his own fight and not look.  
  
“We were told to make a show of it!” Snape shouted back. He threw the eyeless girl against the wall, ripping open her nightdress and, using a series of slicing spells, carved the word “mudblood” across her breasts. Pavlov took over the young man with the open scalp. He used his wand to scatter peaces of brain matter over the walls, smearing the splotches into words and symbols.  
  
His sister’s scream and a loud explosion made Romeo retreat down the stairs. He threw up a strong _Impedimenta_ making Rosier and Avery stumble and lose their footing on the staircase. Romeo dashed around the corner into the drawing room to see his father fending off another Death Eater. Judging by the hole in the ceiling they most likely had fallen through from the bedroom. Sabrina stood with her mouth agape and Henry was crying, clutching at her leg. “Sabrina, get out of here!” He raised his wand just as Lestrange managed to get through Gildon’s defense. The man flew across the drawing room, hitting his head against the fireplace. Another flick of the Death Eater’s wand and the man’s stomach erupted, spraying intestines and other organs across the floor. They writhed and slithered across the wooden floor like large, slippery snakes. Sabrina shrieked.  
  
“Run!” Romeo scooped up little Henry and took off toward the back of the house. His sister followed. They were cornered at the doors to the breakfast room by Rosier and Avery. Romeo blew open the double doors. Avery’s curse hit Sabrina in the back and she fell screaming as her blood began to boil, melting her skin form the inside. Romeo made it to the storage room and locked the door behind him then scrambled down into the cellar and sealed the entrance. There were escape tunnels from here…  
  
*  
  
Dolohov’s group had met back rather quickly and stood guard at the back of the house as the fight began to move downstairs. The Gildons were putting up a fight but it seemed rather useless so far. They had put blocking charms on all the known escape rout exists and were now waiting which way they might need to move. Rosier’s report came over the small mirror in relative silence. _“Romeo Gildon and a small boy have gotten away into the cellars. He sealed the entrance, we could break through…”_  
  
“No,” Dolohov cut off sharply; this was what he needed. He turned to his group. “We’re to cut them off. Remember, we want Gildon alive. Lestrange, Black, Crouch, the forest entrance,” —he was pretty sure the Auror would be taking that way but just in case— “Bonfante, you and Rosier, to the shed exit. You copy, Evan?”  
  
 _“Yes, sir.”_  
  
“Avery, take Snape and go to the bath house rout. Leave Pavlov with Lestrange.”  
  
 _“Yes, sir.”_ The mirror fogged up. Anatole took off at a trop to meet Evan who had already appeared on the back porch. Crouch, Black and Lestrange headed in the opposite direction. There could be other routs of course... Dolohov held back and picked up the mirror again. “Mulciber?”  
  
 _“Sir?”_  
  
“Scan the area, we might have escapees.”  
  
 _“Yes, sir.”_  
  
He shot off scanning charms from time to time until the sound of fighting on the left, as he had expected, made him turn and head in that direction with quick, determined steps.  
  
*  
  
The three young Death Eaters approached the tunnel exit just as Romeo was breaking through their blocking charms. They made a semi circle from the side of the woods and waited. Their faces, still overshadowed by their hoods, hid their different expressions. Rabastan was calm and collected, patiently waiting for Gildon to emerge. Regulus was chewing slightly on his lip in nervous anticipation. Barty’s eyes glowed and danced with expectancy.  
  
A shower of offensive spells sent the trio tripping several steps backwards. Gildon emerged in a vaulted jump straight upwards, aided by a spell. In his arms was a child whom he dropped the moment his feet hit the ground. “Run, Henry!” He tried to cover the boy’s escape but Rabastan and Barty’s curses forced him to put up his own shields. Regulus _stupefy_ -ed the boy and the child fell face forward into a bush where he lay unconscious but relatively unharmed.   
  
Gildon had an auror’s training, skill, and reactions. Seeing his family slaughtered had both unbalanced him and heightened his capacity for violence and retaliation. The three young Death Eaters struggled to close the circle around Gildon but he had a way of cutting them off to where they were limited to the semi-circle they had formed to begin with. Had their only job been to kill him, there wouldn’t be any difficulty but their commanding officers wanted the Auror alive and fairly undamaged which left them with a rather limited arsenal of curses. On the other hand they were up against an opponent ready and willing to kill.   
  
When Dolohov appeared on the scene the three boys breathed a little easier. Things were going to go better now. But Dolohov wasn’t rushing to end the fight. Barty deflected spells and sent his own, watching Antonin with bright, almost greedy eyes. The moment Regulus slipped up in his defenses and was blown back by a repelling spell, the signal came. Barty took a step toward Rabastan and cast the spell he had learned that week in secret, and at the last flick of his wand, subtly aimed to the side. Rabsatan let out a cry of surprise and fell over backwards. In that very moment, Antonin’s powerful binding and gagging curse hit Gildon squarely in the chest, making him fly backwards a couple of feet before he collapsed, bound by invisible ropes.  
  
Regulus stumbled back to his feet. The fire had ceased and he took a moment to catch his breath, which was coming in large, erratic gulps – he’d never done well with the breathing exercises – before looking around. Gildon lay still, though conscious, obviously bound and gagged. Antonin and Barty stood looking at him, almost expectantly… “Rabastan!” Regulus darted toward the older boy, falling to one knee beside him. His hood had flown off but he was ignoring it. “Rabastan? _Enervate_!”  
  
“That won’t work,” Antonin said coolly behind him.  
  
Regulus whipped his head around, looking over his shoulder at the older man. Dark strands that had escaped from the ribbon binding his hair fell over his eyes. “What happened?” His voice hitched dangerously. He looked back at Rabastan who was twitching as though in a spasm.  
  
Barty looked on curiously but without worry. He had been told that the curse would not hurt Lestrange unless it went on for too long. “It’s a certain curse,” Antonin replied in the same, even tone. “Gildon must have had time to cast it before my binding curse hit him.”  
  
Regulus paled, his already fair skin turning an unhealthy blue-ish hue. “ _Finite Incantatem_!” Nothing happened.  
  
“Foolish boy,” Antonin chided, shaking his head. “Mr. Black, have you not been taught that that spell is useless against most Dark Magic. Stand up.”  
  
Regulus obeyed but his eyes didn’t leave Rabastan’s twitching form. “Sorry, sir,” he murmured, flushing slightly. “I…an Auror use Dark Magic?” He looked up at Antonin, his eye piercing. Something about Antonin’s tone was fake. This sounded more like a practice than an actual situation in the field. He felt his stomach churn unpleasantly.  
  
“They use the Unforgivables do they not? Come here, Regulus.”  
  
The boy obeyed, coming to stand next to his commanding officer.  
  
“There’s a way you can reverse the curse.”  
  
“How, sir?”  
  
“Gildon currently has a mental grip on Rabastan. The only way to make him relinquish that grip and allow us to use the counter curse, is…through magically induced pain.”  
  
“The Cruciatus?”  
  
Antonin thought for a while. He had had a collection of other pain inflicting cursers prepared, ones that Regulus might have an easier time with, but since the boy had suggested it himself… “Yes.” He said slowly. “That is certainly the most effective way.” He stepped back, away from a slightly stunned Regulus.  
  
“Sir, you could…” Regulus started hopefully.  
  
Antonin shook his head sharply. “My Cruciatus might damage Gildon too much. Beyond a certain barrier his hold on Rabastan will fuse with his conscious and then nothing short of killing the man will release it. And we need him alive.” He took another step back.  
  
Regulus whipped around. He looked at Gildon who was staring up at him with hatred and fear. Then, at Rabastan who was still twitching and now small but ugly blue-red bruise-like marks were appearing on his face. Regulus looked up at Barty whose hood was also down but his face was hidden by natural shadows. “Barty?” Regulus pleaded. “Please, I can’t.”  
  
Barty shook his head. “You have to, Reg. I can’t help you here.”  
  
“Yes, you can!” Regulus gripped his wand tightly in his shaking hand. “Please…”  
  
“Mr. Crouch will perform the counter curse when it is time,” came Antonin’s explanation from the back, delivered in the same flat tone.  
  
Regulus closed his eyes tightly for a moment before opening them and aiming his wand at Gildon. “ _Crucio_!” Instantly, the man began to writhe like a large flubberworm. The gagging spell would not let him scream, but Regulus could imagine the hoarse howl of agony so clearly in his mind that he dropped his wand within seconds, feeling nauseous. He looked up at Barty, pleading and desperate.  
  
“You’ve got to do it for longer,” Barty said, the edges of his voice frayed. He loved how beautiful and powerful Regulus looked when he cast the Unforgivable. There was something enchanting about how the frail and aristocratic Regulus Black could suddenly turn into a brazen, powerful wizard who made his enemy writhe under his wand. “Again, Reg,” he prompted.  
  
Regulus fought the queasy feeling in his stomach. He glanced at his friend who was still suffering under whatever curse Gildon had cast and tried to work up the _hatred_ and _anger_ … just like cousin Bella had tried to teach him. He watched as the bruises on Rabsatan’s face began to multiply and grow but the only thing he felt was fear. Terrifying fear that froze everything inside him. He turned to their prisoner with icy, glaze over eyes, devoid of all feeling but the fear and the desperate need to alleviate it. “ _Crucio_!”  
  
This time, Regulus managed to hold the curse until Barty, as instructed by Dolohov, swished his wand through the figure of the counter curse and removed the spell. Rabastan rolled over, coughing and gasping for air. Regulus lowered his wand, almost dropping it. He stood still for one moment, looking stupidly at the limp body of Romeo Gildon. Then, snapping out of his stupor he rushed over to Rabastan, helping him sit up.  
  
“Alright, Rabastan?” Antonin asked, striding over to the two boys, his cloak billowing behind him in the night breeze.  
  
“Yes, sir,” Lestrange managed a little shakily. He stood and brushed himself off, feeing his face and arms gingerly. He winced slightly and shook his head as though to clear it. “Just a little sore.”  
  
“Regulus, levitate the boy. I’ll take Gildon.” He threw a _Stupefy_ at the man to nock him out. “We should take them up to the house just in case. Come along Barty.” Antonin levitated Gildon and began to stride toward the house with Barty trotting to keep up. Regulus held back with Rabastan who was limping slightly, levitating the small boy beside him.  
  
When they were some way ahead of Regulus and Rabastan, Barty looked up at Dolohov expectantly. “How did I manage, sir?”  
  
“You did well. Both you and Regulus. Did you notice how powerful he was when he let down his constraints and allowed the Unforgivable to guide him?”  
  
“Yes, sir. I would like to try, as well. Soon.”  
  
Antonin looked over at him, examining the young man – the boy who was just coming of age – and nodded thoughtfully. “This war is far from over, Mr. Crouch. You will have more than enough chances to prove yourself.” Antonin raised his wand to the sky and said clearly, “ _Morsmordre_!”  
  
Barty Crouch tilted his head up to watch in fascination as the Dark Mark unfolded in the sky. To him, it felt like the whole world was opening up in front of him, thriving with opportunity and possibility.  
  
Behind him, Regulus Black also watched the Dark Mark with a feeling that was the devouring, terrifying opposite.


End file.
